C&C3: Victory in Death
by Ender1030
Summary: one week after the destruction of the Philidelphia, the GDI's elite 22nd tactical corp fight off a seemingly endless horde of Nod militants. Can they hold the city and its vital airfields? Or will they succumb to an enemy with overwhelming numbers?
1. Chapter 1

AN: I specifically selected this time frame because, well, I never really BEAT command and conquer 3. Not that I'm a bad player, its just that I found online much more interesting than the story, sorry guys :p. I don't own it so I'm not going to lie there are quite possibly a LOT of story line mistakes here. I've done a little research as to which unit types are there so I don't think there will be that much of a problem. I've taken the liberty to add some things as well to make it more "real". Hope you guys enjoy it!

Lieutenant Colonel Dominico Varen, 22nd Global Defense Initiative Tactical Corp, was in a perfect position in a not so perfect situation. 22nd Tactical had seen action all over the blue zones since the outbreak of the massive Nod offensive. He'd lead several counter offensives and his men were professional, deadly, and experienced. No one could be called "rookie" any longer. The rookies had washed out the hard way. The unit had suffered roughly 15% losses in the past week, but he knew these were rather good odds.

A newspaper, half ripped and crumbled, fluttered by on a draft of radioactive wind. In bold letters: Destruction of the Philidelphia! The station had been blown away two weeks before.

He had seen it with his own eyes. Not like most of the others in the blue zones, he'd been leading that fated offensive into a yellow zone. 22nd Tactical, newly formed and eager for combat had spearheaded that assault, the Lt. Commander in charge of the entire operation saw to it that the men and women of the 22nd had their baptism of fire.

They'd been briefing outside as usual before a mission was green lighted, he'd gathered all of his lieutenants around. Orca gunships and were to roll in and soften up armored targets around a Nod insurgent base which, although small and insignificant looking, the Commander had not decided to take any chances. They'd roll in with APCs and IFVs shortly after with another Orca squadron on standby for rapid reaction, whether it be taking out tanks, turret spires or flattening a structure. They didn't have very good intel on that operation, much less than he would have even committed forces to Varen remembered. But Nod techies had gotten extremely good at jamming satellite uplinks in the past and were threatening to eliminate GDIs spying power. Eyes in the sky. This little rock in the middle of nowhere was supposed to house a satellite jamming system and so far, it appeared to be true. They couldn't activate their beacons to call in orbital kinetic strikes, they had virtually no clue where this base even was until air reconnaissance discovered them and even satellite based radio and cell phones were offline. It was a losing scenario that the Lt. Commander hoped to turn around.

Something had made him look up he remembered, a number of soldiers who had been spending the readiness time playing basketball outside had stopped their game to gawk skyward. For a day or so, they had a second sun, not as bright or hot but it was there. The mission was put on hold for the next week. Firehawk joint strike units scrambled and flew sorties to eliminate falling debris and wreckage.

The next week, they were green lighted. The men and women of the 22nd fell on that nod base like a thunderbolt. The crew of the _Philadelphia_ had been avenged.

"Watch your step sir." One of his aides warned. Varen hardly even glanced at the irradiated green rocks near his feet. The suit he wore protected him; it was a small quantity but he knew any more and the radiation particles would slice his body like a magician cutting up his assistant, so dangerous were the newly discovered Omega rays that were trademark of Tiberium it would be as if the radiation suit the Lt. Colonel wore wasn't there. The aide called the HAZMAT team up to seal the mineral in a radiation proof box. It could be used and refined to power the generators in the city, he knew. Every little bit helped. But that wasn't the only thing he had to protect in this city. 22nd tactical had been spread thin, covering the entire area. A motley crew of infantry platoons, armored troop carriers, tanks and even 3 of its own air squadrons, this task force of maybe three thousand fine men and women might not have been enough to hold all of his objectives.

His most important objective, the massive hydroelectric dam outlying the city. If that fell, not only would he lose power but Nod forces might irradiate the water with tiberium in their sick quest for human evolution. It only took a few tons of rock, so the majority of their anti air defenses had been deployed around the dam and river. No more Vertigo bombers attempted to drop deadly payloads of tiberium into the reservoir. It was however, susceptible to commando raids, hence the twenty four hour platoon strength armed riflemen that guarded the perimeter. He didn't trust local police with this job at all.

Second, a satellite uplink that not only gave him to the second Intel on the surrounding areas but an ability to call for reinforcements and deploy them with pinpoint precision around the city. Yes, those Zone troopers, armored like tanks, were a nightmare against almost anything that stood in their way.

Third, this area was a vital handhold in the blue zone. Not only did it have a rather convenient pile of Tiberium located just outside the city, but it was a major operations base for the Initiative. This base had once held hundreds of thousands of fighting men and women and had been the planning sight for countless field operations. Now, Skinner Airfield was ripe for the taking and Nod knew it, if the small probes on their outer perimeter had been any hint.

Fourth, his tiberium power plants, armory and food storage facilities. They had enough dry stocks, weapons, ammunition and refined tiberium to last them maybe a year, but that wouldn't be so good if a stray bomb found its way on top of the powder kegs and blew it all sky high. Security was almost as high there as it was around the dam.

He had a civilian population to worry about as well, not just because that they were in danger of getting in the way of shooting, no. he had the problem of them actually shooting _him._ Was it only last week that a bus had slammed itself into one of the power nodes and detonated releasing, not only a high temperature explosion but a deadly nerve gas as well? He couldn't even begin to imagine how many _more_ casualties he would have sustained if the winds hadn't been blowing the chemical fallout in a direction away from the city. He'd read the reports, field hospitals were choked with over a thousand patients. Most of them military men and women.

He had placed the surrounding city under martial law, a move that wasn't politically sound but it was strategically. He had moved all the civilians up and into the base where they wouldn't be in the way of crossfire. Most of them anyway, a few of the more adamant had stayed below, and the rebellious had disappeared, Varen assumed to join Nod militants.

But his city, while strategically secure in almost every way, with turret spires placed all over the city, sonic cannon placed on choking avenues and streets between the tall buildings and a rapid reaction team of five hundred fighting infantry, tanks and a third of his twenty four hammerhead gunships on constant alert, had several major disadvantages. The first and foremost was obvious. He was surrounded on all sides, massive Nod armored divisions that Varen nor any of the GDI's executives ever suspected they had and certainly not numbering in the hundreds of thousands had cut the blue zones as systematically as cutting cake. In effect Varen was an island of blue resistance in a sea burning red with angry hyped up religious evolutionary radicals that weren't above attacking noncombatants. He didn't know how many there were either and that scared him. he could have been fighting as many as a million troops although that was a ludicrous figure. Everyone thought it was ludicrous that Nod would have the ability to nuke the _Philadelphia_ too, didn't they?

No, it wasn't the best of situations, maybe it was the worst. But he did have one advantage. The men and women of the 22nd wouldn't go down without a fight. It wasn't just the excruciating torture that they knew would await them if they surrendered, it was a matter of pride as well: "Victory in Death" was their unit creed, assumed on the day they had avenged the _Philadelphia_. They seemed to take it to heart, throwing themselves with an almost inhumane ferocity that Veran had seldom seen in Nod fanatics that strapped demo charges to their chests and rushed the forward bunkers of a GDI perimeter. They weren't fighting for their families, they were fighting for themselves and however shallow that might have sounded, it counted all the more in a battle.

If the only way to survive was to kill every single last one of those Nod bastards, then that's what his troops would do. They'd proven it and Lt. Colonel Veran hadn't earned his stars and stripes on false claims.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Erm, hehe, i haven't actually managed to play the NOD campaign...make of this what you will.

"This, here is where we believe their foremost bunkers lie." Colonel Higgins, a short stocky man with a red tattoo that scarred, not decorated, the left side of his face, pointed at a circled section in the northwest quadrant the tactical display. He tapped the reservoir with a short talon, an uncut fingernail on his index finger.

"All our stealth bomber missions to this area have been knocked out of the sky so we must assume they are well prepared for air attack."

"So we do not have air superiority at this time?" Colonel Matteo leaned over the display to sniff superiorly at the scrawny GDI defense.

"Definitely not in GDI airspace." Higgins nodded. "Our venom gunships are of course constantly scouting the outer perimeters but our attack bike and Scorpion probes along the lines have been completely fruitless. Out of three dozen probes, we've only had a dozen of those return, and none of them took any fewer than two casualties. I recommend a three pronged assault with the 425th and 657th armored divisions along their eastern and southern axis, its closer to the resivoirs and that should be our primary objective if we are going to save these fools from extinction."

It was war those predarwinian fools wanted then. Lord Commander Caroth would bring that to him. He contemplated his position at the moment. True he had no air superiority against this force and these GDI troops had shown an unnatural resolve when it came to fighting his forces but realistically, he could destroy this base with ease. It was always a numbers game in war and the GDI scum could have no more than five thousand troops counting armor and air support. If the turrets he knew were present factored into the game then he would say that a smart commander had effectively doubled that firepower into maybe ten thousand.

Lord Commander Caroth had ten armored divisions at his disposal, eight air groups made up of four squadrons each, and an unestimated number of growing ground forces, infantry rifle squads, some with professional military backgrounds others just citizens who had seen the light of Kane and managed to bring some sort of personal defense weapon to join his ranks. In effect Caroth outnumbered his opponent almost a dozen to one.

Civilian intel had been more valuable than any of his miniscule probes along the GDI fronts. He knew he was facing no more than five thousand enemy troops, that they had evacuated most of the civilians into the airfield base, that his enemy's air force actually consisted of a couple dozen Hammerhead gunships, maybe eight Orca gunships and four Firehawk Joint Strike Stratofighter/bombers, so they were primarily relying on Surface to Air missiles, Anti Air Artillery and Slingshot AA platforms for air defense. So that neutralized his air power but his ground arm was what the enemy had to be afraid of.

All of his commandos had sadly been requisitioned to be deployed with the assaults on Washington DC and the Pentagon, but he still had his Blackhand flamethrower troops. These, were possibly the most sadistic among his force, they loved the fact that their high powered thermal weapons could even melt armor off infamous Zone troopers, which terrorized even the bravest of men.

What's more, his troops were highly motivated. They'd taken out the space station that had been a symbol of pride among the enemy and their surprise attack had succeeded with a crumbling GDI resistance. Global Defense Initiative indeed.

"We attack along their Western Axis." Caroth's voice boomed, despite the fact he hadn't actually raised it. He was a giant of a man, measuring seven foot ten, he attested his height to tiberium exposure. He was a happy man. A very ruthless happy man. "Full force with two armored divisions and an equal number of infantry. I think we'll use venoms to balance the assault along the front and flanks as well as our Vertigos on standby to strike hardened targets."

"But their Southern Axis? That would be the longest distance away from our objectives, the powerplants and refineries are all placed inside the airbase." Higgins question wasn't treasonous, that, in fact was what he was there for. To ask questions, to second guess Caroth as an enemy would so Caroth would know if he was doing something stupid or if he was making a move on pure instinct. Higgins balanced him out. But he sometimes needed to learn his place.

"True," Caroth nodded "But look here, if we strike in a five pronged assault all along their southern axis, firstly if I were defending that base, I would have the majority of my force positioned to engage them along the Eastern and Southern fronts _because_ it is closest to the enemy line. So when we hit them west, true we risk running into a time lag where the enemy has time to shift its defense but it is much better than if we actually had to engage that line directly. So I'm counting on speed and surprise to make this work. Speed bikes go in first, their objective is to engage anti air turrets and identify Heavy turret positions to be neutralized by a venom follow up. Bike units must avoid bunkers and ground turrets at all costs, those will be left up to the venoms, once the bikes identify a sonic, venoms will break off their attack and engage those turrets, Avatars, beam tanks and infantry will follow up to take out their bunkers and prepare to meet enemy resistance."

"I see." Higgins frowned. "I assume you already know the casualty rate?"

"I would think very high among the venom and bike units" Caroth frowned in return. "but if this goes according to plan, then the GDI forces won't be prepared to face a Tank and infantry assault with the speed we have. On that note however, one can never be too cautious. Lets put half our Avatars and Scorpions from the 435th armored on line and half in reserve. But this is nothing but a stab brothers. This is the knife in the ribs, this is _not_ the kill blow. This is intended to do as much damage as possible and secure our forward element. This should be a clean one - two punch. Tell the commanders that I want our units to stop at these coordinates" Caroth drew a line with his pencil on the tactical display. "If our established lines are secure, then we can move our main force forward and push onto the base the next day."

"Very good sir."

"Assemble the troops and prepare to attack in thirty six hours."

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"Holy mother, would you look at _them_." Major Stephens stroked his lips as he stared at the holographic display. Enemy forces, outlined in red, completely surrounded the city. Someone zoomed the tactical display to the enemy's rear echelon. A busy supply base in the Northwest quadrant refueled planes, tanks, walkers and gunships for the massive enemy force.

"I didn't even think those Nod freaks could deploy that many troops, much less in a small area like this." Stephens shook his head

"Its why they've been winning so much." 2nd Lieutenant Offers shook his head as well. It looked hopeless. But hopelessness wasn't an option for the men of the 22nd Tactical.

"Do we have an uplink to Base One?" Offers asked. Base One was one of the many Codenames for the Pentagon.

"We do, and they're fighting off an attack themselves." Veran stroked his chin thoughtfully, the trio's eyes never left the display. "They won't be able to send reinforcements any time soon. Hell, they're reactivating the old ZOCOM and Steel Talon units."

"It'd be nice to get some of that tech." Stephens said

"It'd be nice if we could just ionize these bastards, but all the ion cannon satellites have been rerouted to defend the DC area. They're preparing to _ionize_ DC gentlemen. We're in as deep as it gets."

"kinetics?"

"Limited. They've managed to release maybe two satellites with ten rounds each for us. And our Zone trooper deployment is looking like maybe four or five squads."

Not enough in other words. Uneasy silence prevailed, broken only by the tapping of keyboards, the blink of lights and the hum of the holographic display that showed the future cause of death of the three men and three thousand troopers not to mention civilians in this city.

"I've got a couple changes I think we should make in our defense gentlemen." Veran said. The other two looked up, it was standard GDI procedure that, even though Veran had tactical seniority in this matter, strategy was decided by the council of the CO and his two XOs so that the entire unit had a better chance to survive.

"I'm all ears sir, it can't get any worse than it is."

"Lets turn this problem upside down. If we assume and act like a defense, it is a defense and that's all it will be. We need to make it seem like an offense. We take a defensive stance, we surrender all initiative. Let's fight the enemy on our own terms."

"That's brilliant sir, except we can't do anything _but_ defend."

"Lets think about that for a moment. Defense means lines, and straight out fighting. We know we'd lose that one. Those damn Nod terrorists knew that and that's why they've been able to kill so many of our guys. Lets change the rules. They know it's a city, they know its going to be an urban fight, lets _not_ give them one. Let's give them a fight where they have to fight over the _rubble_ of the city, the destroyed buildings every single meter of ground we can win that way. Not building to building fighting, but destroyed structure to destroyed structure. Lets make them fight over _garbage_. We can win this way gentlemen."

"Or at least cause a hell of a number of casualties in the process."

"Victory in Death."

"Victory in Death." Colonel Veran nodded.

"So what would you have us do?"

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"_Would you rather be doing something else soldier?"_

"No _sir!"_ the troops shouted back. Lieutenant Burns surveyed the troops on their morning PT run. In full combat gear. White helmets and gas masks glinted in the sunlight as the troops, with Burns at the head, finished their five mile run/patrol across the perimeter. Radioactivity had kicked the temperature up maybe ten degrees Fareignheit and he knew his troops had to be roasting. Burns knew he was. He flipped down the electronic visor for sunlight protection. It was 1034 according to his clock, and the sun beat down on his men. Fourth Platoon, Bravo company sweated and performed a hundred press ups, balanced on their rifles, in full body armor. It was heavy, it was uncomfortable but it could stop most incoming rounds. And although each standard rifle clip held maybe thirty rounds and it only took one of those to kill a man, that body armor was essential to stopping these and gave each life more chances to continue. And when it came to his men, to continue meant to continue killing the enemy.

They were based around the outer perimeter on the Western line, Burns back felt hot, the sun beat down on the rear flak vest. The enemy positions were out there to the west, just black dots that were hazy in the heat and distance, but he knew that every one of those dots on the horizon was a tank, an IFV (Infantry Fighting Vehicle) or worse, an Avatar assault walker. His men would be ready, along with not only ten squads of ready and eager rifle men, each with his own missile team equipped with Multipurpose Dragoon GA/GG missile firing system, he had turret spires equipped with rapid firing 20 mm machine guns. These things had an effective range of 500 meters and a kill zone of up to a thousand meters in _all_ directions. The spires would be crucial to defending against infantry assault. He had 150 mm cannon to rely on as well, perfected with depleted uranium armor piercing high explosive shells that would sail towards the enemy and punch through the heaviest armors as though it were paper.

But he wasn't a fool about this defense. Although his turrets were placed there to "help" them, his men were really nothing more than a shield against the endless tides of enemy. The enemy would be more likely to engage him and his men than to just die in droves to get to a turret that wouldn't just be sitting there idle, no the things would be blasting away to its programming's content or until the autoloaders ran out of shells which seemed more likely. He didn't know if the men had figured it out too but they were smart. It wouldn't take long.

He strode among the trenches as his platoon broke off and dispersed on their wide range of patrols, some which would inevitably crisscross into the Delta area which the troops were using as a recreation zone. Someone had even fished up a pool table from somewhere. He didn't blame them. They all needed a break.

The engineers however, seemed to always be bustling about, hauling ammunition to decent firing zones, making sure the turrets were always on alert and kept up a constant communication with the Command Bunker up at Skinner Airfield, maybe two miles away. One approached him and handed him a datascreen.

"Sir, message from LOCCOM." Local Command. From Colonel Varen in other words.

Burns nodded a thank you and scanned the message. He blinked once and read it again just to make sure he got it right. No, no mistake there. Had Varen finally _lost_ it?

No, it wasn't his place to question orders. A soldier who disobeyed orders was a threat to his entire army and in turn, to the entire GDI. Orders came from superiors who knew the bigger picture. Orders kept the men alive. Burns handed the datascreen back to the engineer.

"Tell the rest of you guys to retract the turrets and put them on standby mode."

"Sir?" The engineer cocked his head, his eyes were…blue behind those silver filmed goggles they all wore.

"Straight from LOCCOM." Burns said and pressed a button on the side of his helmet to activate the platoon radio net.

"Platoon on me! We're pulling back!" he barked.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks before. 0200 hours.

"Team one on the ground." Master Sergeant Cuvin's boots hit the dirt with a crunch. His partner, Master Sergeant McLellan leaped out of the V35 Ox transport to his right. Cuvin covered the left while McLellan swept the right. The jets from the V35's afterburners powered up and sent the Ox skyward before sending the craft whisking away to the west. Cuvin knelt for a while longer taking in his surroundings.

Almost utter nothingness, aside from sickly glass coated rocks from tiberium poisoning. Maybe the odd fragment of the mineral here and there, but it wasn't any amount big enough to be dangerous for this mission. The operation so far, was still go.

Cuvin spotted a rock outcrop that would provide perfect cover in the morning twilight and pointed to it. McLellan nodded in response and the pair sprinted and slid over to the rocks. The sun, an orange glow to the east at the moment, cast sinister black shadows where the enemy, or Cuvin's team, could hide in. It was three miles to the target, a long trek on foot, but any closer and the Nod forces might have detected them.

Cuvin planned his next movment, a short sprint toward another rock outdrop. His white boonie hat and blue flakvest had been painted to a dull grey the night before and he hoped that the paint had completely dried and the film he had placed to reduce shine was working. He'd opted for the boonie hat because it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the standard helmet. He didn't have to worry much about the radiation either, he and Mclellan was one of the special few completely immune to Omega rays given off by Tiberium. But he still wore the gas mask that was standard. Never hurt to be too cautious.

It was endless leap-frogging from cover to cover from there. And when there was too much distance to cover by sprinting, they _crawled_. Lying prone in the dirt, Cuvin and Mclellan inched their way toward the outcrop, covering maybe a hundred meters in forty minutes. It was slow going but in this sort of operation, it stealth was key. The closer they could get to their target, the better. His rifle clacked against the back of his vest when he finally crawled up the hill. He took the case off and began assembling the sniper rifle. SRC – 432 .50 caliber gauss sniper rifle was the staple of GDI sniper teams. Perfectly capable of taking out infantry, even lightly armored vehicles up to a mile away. In the hands of a crack shot, like Cuvin, it was death from over the horizon. It took maybe five minutes for Cuvin and Mclellan to assemble their sniper rifles, and another thirty seconds to attach the silencer, infared laser rangefinder, heat sensing computerized telescopic sights as well as zeroing in the range and temperature for the rifles. Finally, Cuvin flipped out the bipod and braced it against the rocks. They were ready. "Team one in position." He whispered into the microphone.

"Team two, hard copy." Someone replied. If everything had gone according to plan, Team two was on the exact opposite end of the base, somewhere over the hills to the South. Cuvin sighted up. He scanned the outer perimeter, there were a dozen armed men, some with the GDI SCAR-100 assault rifles, others just boys with hunting rifles. Some had laser guided rocket propelled grenades as well. But there were only a dozen and they hadn't spotted Cuvin. His scope sight moved on, past the wire fences into the camp itself.

"Team two in position." A hushed voice whispered into Cuvin's ear.

"Team one, hard copy." There were maybe a dozen hardened structures in the area, capable of taking two or three hits from the bunker busters the Firehawks had been equipped with but the rest of the camp was in shambles. Some of them had been welded together using old rusted sheet metal. There were the odd hardened structures aside from the dozen grouped in the center but other than that, it didn't look like this would be much of a challenge. Had they moved it? Cuvin scanned the inner cordon again. Yes, there was the bunker in the center, surrounded by SAM batteries. It had a giant dish pointing skyward like the old telescopic radio transmitters used by NASA before it was disbanded. That had to be it. Cuvin activated the camera and range finder. It was 1637.2 meters away, just short of a mile. He snapped a shot.

"Team two, look to the center of the base, about 1600 meters from my current position. I have identified a hardened structure surrounded by surface to air missile sites. Confirm that you see it." Cuvin whispered without taking his eyes off it.

"Team two hard copy. Eyes on the target. I think that's it one."

"Base perimeter looks like they're off guard. You think that's it?"

"That's it. Call it in." he knew Master Sergeant Diaz was grinning.

"LOCCOM, this is team one, satellite jamming uplink has been confirmed and base perimeter is off guard. Operation Swift Justice is go say again-"  
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"_-Swift Justice is go-" _The AWAC combat director's voice scattered across the gamma band radio net. Lt. Colonel Farnsworth in his command APC perked up along with the men rest of the men. The tactical display in the APC showed the infared beacons of team one and team two on the North and South hills around the base. The AWAC continued broadcasting in rapid fire sequence.

"_Satellite jamming site confirmed by visual and radar scan. All units: Weapons hot. Cleared to engage all hostiles in the battle zone. Firehawks entering the airspace, targets designated in killbox five bravo, say again air strikes designated in killbox five bravo-"_

"Red group, advance!" he barked into the radio. The APCs and Predators rumbled to life. Over 30 armored vehicles started out across the plain. This was only one of four battle groups, the advance force of the operation. In reserve, twenty Predator MKII with the new magnetic railgun upgrades instead of the older MKI with the 150mm rifled barrels, another fifteen APCs, a single Mammoth tank and an Orca for each task group. He checked the displays and real time camera broadcasts on screens throughout the command vehicle. From Team One's sniper sight, complete with audio, the base seemed serenely calm. He saw two guards smoking together and another pair looking at something in a book. He was very young and by the way the pair were giggling slightly, Farnsworth could only guess as to what they were actually looking at.

"_Targets locked, coming in hot…" _the voice of the Firehawk squadron leader came in loud and confident on Theta band. _"And…bombs free!"_ High in the stratosphere, Farnsworth imagined eight bunker busting precision guided munitions release from the Firehawk's munitions bays as the fighter-bombers banked away sharply. Farnsworth stared intently at the sniper's viewpoint. He should have tasked Varen to do this while he sat safely in his command bunker but he just _had_ to be out here. It was personal, he'd known maybe a dozen men and women who had gone up on the _Philadelphia_. Hell, maybe one of those flaming pieces of wreckage had been _them_.

And the Firehawks blew them out of the sky all the same. Those Nod bastards would pay tenfold for what they had done, and Farnsworth was their debt collector.

Forty five seconds passed on the mission timer before eight bright explosions lit up the early morning like stars. As if the hand of God had come down on these terrorists, the bombs fell silent, swift, and deadly accurate. He saw at least 4 of the bunkers belch fire from their firing ports, doors and windows, another two fell on the radar station itself.

The guards dropped immediately what they were doing and turned around to view the fiery spectacle.

"_Baker Wing, entering the kill zone, weapons hot, looking for targets of opportunity."_ The approaching screeching sound of the Orcas made the guards turn again and the quartet nimble gunships flashed by, their jets horizontal at a maximum burn as they fired high explosive bunker busting missiles at random targets sowing chaos and mayhem in the base. Men, their outlines blurred by flame, poured out of the buildings, some with rifles, some half clothed and burning. All of them screaming.

"UAV broadcast coming online sir." One of the engineers said. Farnsworth tore his gaze away from the sniper camera and set his concentration on the holographic tactical display in front of him. The Orca flyby had done its damage, unloading half of its payload on the hardened structures, mainly the radar site if it wasn't already disabled by the first airstrikes, and the second half on targets of opportunity, mainly enemy tanks, turrets and walkers. Red thermal signatures on the cold blue holographic display showed enemy scorpion tanks, Flamer IFVs and even the signatures of several Avatars powering up. This was definitely more resistance than anticipated.

"Blue group, go to standby." He spoke into the microphone. "Baker squadron, be advised there are enemy power up signatures detected in quadrant three. Take out what you can, how copy?"

"Hard copy LOCCOM."

Acknowledgements from the squadron leaders were confident and eager. Missiles streaked upward from the SAM sites, the Orca's popped chaff, metal film strips that deflected radar guided weapons and smoking flares to decoy any heat seekers. Afterburner lines from the missiles crisscrossed and spiraled as the Orcas made their second pass on the enemy vehicle hangars. Explosions tossed fire, mounds of dirt, metal and men into the sky.

Then Red group came on screen, approaching from all directions, the base was surrounded, Nod troopers milled in confusion, some snapping shots at the passing Orca's who were now just doing flyby's and alerting the ground forces to approaching threats, others engaging GDI ground units. What the Predators left, mostly rifle based infantry mobs, were left to deal with the APCs. Mass barrages of rifle and missile fire poured out in streams from the armored troop carriers mowing down entire groups in just seconds. The Avatars were the only things putting up a decent fight, one in particular seemed to enjoy blasting one APC apart before it could deploy troops and then using its arms to throw predators at each other. But the second group of Orcas were on the case. The reserve gunships swooped in and barraged the walkers with volleys of armor piercing missiles till they toppled and fell.

True to the fanatical nature they had though, once inside the base perimeter, Nod gave ground stubbornly. It had maybe been an hour into the battle and the advance had slowly ground to a stalemate. The narrow lanes of the base had reduced the fighting ability of the armored element of the 22nd, so now the infantry squads were deploying, but that first wave had lost its forward momentum.

"Blue group, double quick advance." Farnsworth ordered and he felt his APC lurch forward with the rest of the battle group. The tanks hung back, establishing an outer perimeter according to plan, the APCs penetrated deep into the base. Farnsworth checked the outer cameras. The base was in flames, gouts of smoke blocked vision, piles of machinery blocked lanes. The smell began seeping in so strong that Farnsworth had a wet towel put around his nose and mouth so he could concentrate. He caught sight of a squad breaching the side of a building and a grenadier tossing in the high powered sonic charges through the hole. A noise just loud enough to throw everything inside the building out, but not destroy it shattered the already loud battleground. It penetrated the sound proofing in the APC, Farnsworth knew that much. But now he was getting reports of mopping up action. The platoons had secured the main targets and the snipers and tanks were picking off anyone who managed to escape. A more thorough search was needed however, it was not uncommon for a camp that was relatively small to reveal a massive underground fortress complete with aircraft hangars, defense turrets and tanks. Farnsworth popped the top hatch to get a good look around with his own eyes, not though a camera or through the filmy holodisplay.

He slipped the gas mask on and surveyed the men. A rifle platoon stood guard around the APC, the sound of another sonic charge going off temporarily deafened Farnsworth but the pain subsided. It was a good battle, they had avenged the _Philidelphia_ and all in all-

The ground split apart, massive turret spires rose from the ground like fingers from hell. The rifle platoon around him were thrown to the ground, such was the force of the earthquake. Farnsworth was almost knocked off of his vehicle but he fell back inside and landed. He looked to the holodisplay. Power up signatures appeared all over the base, and even _outside_ the perimeter, far longer than he would have suspected. The entire battle group, both red and blue, had been trapped in a ring of anti infantry and armored turrets. Sounds of battle returned, but with something new: panicked voices of squad leaders and officers, tankers scrambling out of their burning vehicles only to be cut down. the tactical display showed uncovered Avatars and Flame tanks scouring the slain like vultures. No no no no no! He'd taken the bait and now he was paying the price. More men burst from previously destroyed bunkers, bombs were strapped to their chests. They ran full speed toward the confused GDI infantry and armor and burst upon them. He was looking at all the cameras, listening to the radio, _anything_ that might give Farnsworth a glimmer of hope in winning this battle. Something caught his eye, one of the camera mounts on an Orca, an antivehicle turret had caught a lucky shot on one of its vector thrusters and it was rolling out of control straight into the husk of an Avatar it had torn into with missiles not a second before- a sudden zooming in on the destroyed husk before static. Screams were becoming common place on the radio channel, along with sudden drops and cuts. It was a losing battle for their lives. No, these Nod bastards wouldn't have another victory, not so soon after the Philidelphia.

Lt. Colonel Farnsworth activated his channel override broadcasting his voice across all networks in the area, including back to Major Varen back at home base.

"Gentlemen, its been an honor." He said. "For the Philidelhpia!"

Varen came online "Sir, what's going on over there-"

Farnsworth cut him off. He took a deep breath and dialed in an encrypted channel that he wouldn't have been able to dial if that satellite jammer had been in place. A pity that it had only occurred to him now, but then again, in retrospect, it would have been deemed "unnecessary force" for the size of the base.

"Standby Ion Control" he spoke clearly but couldn't prevent that husk from entering his voice. A scream outside told him that one more GDI soldier had just lost his life to the hands of terrorists. He swallowed. "Fire mission on mission profile coordinates priority one,- Alpha Zulu Twelve Zero Niner. Command Code Pegasus."

He waited three beats, his chest almost fell when the answer didn't come immediately, but for some reason, the time lag didn't occur to him.

"_Coordinates received Colonel. Firing on Alpha Zulu Twelve Zero Niner, Ion Control prepped to fire. Stand by... Stand by..."_


	4. Chapter 4

1200 hours.

Master Sergeant Diaz remembered it clearly. How he sprinted as far away from the base as he possibly could, how his partner, Master Sergeant Thompson had been a little slower off the mark. How the sky fell in a shaft of blinding light that almost blinded Diaz even though he had been facing away from it.

How Thompson who happened to be directly behind him vaporized in an instant.

Diaz shifted a little from his prone position wincing slightly from the effort. Flash burns from the ion beam had scarred him all across the arms, legs and sides, reflecting light had half burned away his face, clothes, and melted what little armor he had so that it welded to his skin. He'd had to undergo painful surgery for the past two weeks to remove every bit. And the medical team didn't have enough equipment for compete skin grafts. The new skin was raw, wet and sometimes when Diaz checked, bled.

Newly appointed Colonel Varen though, he needed every soldier he could get. And Diaz was vital to his new defense plan. So was his new partner, Corporal Haverson. The man was doing admirably well for a grenadier turned sniper. He'd been in the second battle of the plains, where Colonel Varen had ordered vicious mop up action on the underground fortress that was the Nod camp. All ugly room to room fighting. It was relatively easy, see one tunnel, throw a sonic charge, cover your ears and enter fetal position and repeat. They'd suffered relatively light casualties. Only a dozen or so wounded because they were stupid enough to stand close to a sonic detonation. But after the charges had wiped out the major resistance in those tunnels, the soldiers went in.

Clearing room by room, the sonics didn't leave much alive but what was still alive was mercilessly put down by GDI infantry. Engineers went with them, because those Nod bases were so notoriously filled with traps, mines whatever the insurgents could think of. But that was all in the past now. Haverson, though he wasn't the crack shot that sniping called for, was up here with Diaz for an entirely different reason.

"There they are look at those sons of bitches…" he whispered. Diaz imagined him glaring through the binoculars he had been glued to for the past six hours. Diaz turned his neck and felt something pop, sending bone jarring vibrations down his spine. Knives slitted his sides and he winced. He sighted up. a pair of scouts, crawling slowly toward the GDI lines had detatched themselves from the armored convoy circling the perimeter. They used rush mats that blended perfectly with the landscape save for a slight shimmer and shadow (a fatal mistake in Diaz's experience) and crawled prone on their backs toward the forward trenches. No, there were more. A slight shimmer there, a wave there it betrayed the stealthy movements of them. All those Nod militants were inept, unprofessional and therefore would die in droves for every inch of ground they attempted to take. Every GDI soldier was worth at least ten Nod militiamen. Diaz flipped the thermal optics down and sighted up on the scope. Bodies outlined in red heat waves dotted the plain. No there definitely were more than that pair Haverson noted.

"Haverson, I just flipped to thermal imaging. I've got maybe six hundred down there. Check it out for me?" Diaz murmured.

He heard Haverson scoff. Six hundred men crawling prone in an attempt to storm a trench? That was a ludicrious figure. Especially since they knew the Initiative had some of the best imaging gear around. He would never understand what a zealous faith could do to men. Haverson peered down and flipped a switch on the electrobinoculars and let out a low whistle.

"Yep that's a lot of guys down there. Definitely more than we expected."

_And that's not even the first wave, but we've seen what their probe strengths were. They must think they can take us by surprise._ He sighted up on one figure crawling rifle cradled in his arms as he attempted prone movement as close to the trenches as he could. He heard Haverson whisper sharply into a radio.

"_LOCCOM, Sniper team Oscar Zulu, estimate six hundred tangos on the southern perimeter. Armored perimeter scout has veered off toward the southwest perimeter they are without armored support, say again tangos without armor. Requesting orders, how copy?"_

Diaz inhaled and exhaled, lowering his heart rate so the rifle would steady. He activated the laser rangefinder- 1000 meters out and from an elevated position of 3 stories, possibly 400 meters? The temperature had climbed up a fraction in the past 15 minutes and the but thankfully the wind speed remained constant. He scratched something on his notepad and adjusted the scope. He double checked his math. He'd have to aim about two and a half bars up for a perfect shot. One shot, one kill. The SRC 450 Gauss rifle in his hand could shred lightly armored vehicles with one blow. Hitting a man with maybe a uniform and old Kevlar would split him like a needle passing through a water balloon. By the time Diaz was satisfied he'd calculated the perfect angle of fire LOCCOM responded.

"_Solid copy Oscar Zulu. You are weapons free at this time. Remain on station and hold your position at all times. It looks like this is a major push. Take your shots and drive them into the machine guns. How copy._"

Haverson blew dust out of his clip and slammed it into his own SRC 450. He charged the bolt clanging it in its housing with a metallic satisfying sound. "_Hard copy LOCCOM. We're going loud._" He looked at Diaz's notepad triple checked the figures and nodded.

"Ready."

"I'm targeting the lead man, furthest front." Diaz murmured and controlled his breathing.

"Target acquired." Haverson whispered as he sighted up on a different target.

Diaz exhaled deeply emptying his lungs of air and at that singular moment of vacuum he stroked the trigger. The 50. caliber round had one and a half seconds of travel time before it burst the man's head like an overripe melon. By that time Haverson had fired as well and Diaz sighted up on a second target. Another stroke of the trigger, another kill. The group immediately around his kills stood up, broke cover and began retreating, but it wasn't disorganized. They began running in serpentine patterns to make them harder targets, there was definitely an officer in charge there. He still believed he had the element of surprise as well. Diaz wasn't confident he could hit an erratically moving target especially at this range so he sighted up on the others who thought they were still camoflauged and fired.

That got their attention all right.

The entire group broke cover and charged, rush mats falling off their backs and snapped bayonets to their rifles. As they closed, the bunkers opened up, machine gun fire poured at the charging troops felling a few but the officers were smart and kept their lines long and wide. The machine guns found now concentrated targets, no groups to slaughter and had to settle on felling individual men. The concrete bunkers poured fire, the turret spires had retracted for some reason that confused Diaz and now the charge had halted, the troops grabbing cover behind a few destroyed vehicles that had attempted to probe along this line and snapped shots at the bunker. The machine gun operators sprayed willy nilly, not aiming, not reverting to their training and firing short accurate controlled bursts at all. As if children were shooting in a video game. They didn't act like soldiers at all.

Excellent.

The roar of machine gun rounds zipping over Captain Bennet's head almost drowned out the dull growl of approaching vehicles, Motorbike units attatched with missile launchers and Flamer IFVs streaked across the plain in good order along with assorted tanks and APCs. They had the GDI's attention pinned on them, now they would push and cleanse this unholy city.

"Monroe!" he barked at one of his lieutenants. The man looked up from his bloodied hands. Damn these men, few if any at all had any sort of military training and those that did have experience lacked backbone. Monroe was one who lacked both. But he was one of the best and elevated quickly to an officer status. "Move Capricorn squad to flank right and storm the trenches! You!" he shouted at a man- no a boy clutching a bolt action hunting rifle cowering behind the APC husk "Get some flashbangs out there. Monroe get ready to move." He peered over and was venomously rebuked by the hosing pass of machinegun fire. He gritted his teeth and spat. "Go!"

The boy was slow to the mark, fumbling with the pins and tossing them up and over the husk. The dull crump of explosions, then Monroe and his fifteen moved out. Almost immediately three of them fell to automatic fire from the trenches, the helmets of three GDI troopers ducked under cover at the same time Monroe ordered his men prone. _Imbecile!_ "Monroe! Get up there and _storm that trench!_ " Bennet shouted over the weapons fire. He tossed a grenade over the husk and peered over. The bunker immediately in front of him continued to spray fire everywhere on fully automatic in timed streams so that it hosed the entire area equally. The GDI infantry scrambled out of their trenches and sprinted toward the city, turning around to snap shots off at his men. A lucky shot hit the man next to Bennet, the round penetrating the pot helmet before entering the brain and tearing the delicate tissue apart. He ducked back down and cursed loud enough for everyone to hear over the gunfire. A Scorpion tank roared into position and four speed bikes raced past leaping high speed over the trenches and streaked off into the city missiles firing at distant targets. "Platoon on me! Follow up the armor!" the squad broke cover for the much more sturdy battle plate of the Scorpion, machine gun fire pinged off its armor. Venom gunships _chop-chop-chopped_ into strafing positions and unleashed missiles on the bunkers. The three missiles fired at Bennet's bunker failed to penetrate leaving a cloud of dust and exploded concrete that rained down on Bennet's troops. One man cried out his leg smashed inward by the fragmentation.

The tank had no orders to engage those bunkers and the venoms moved on to engage other targets of high value and toughness. It would be up to Bennet's troop to take this line then.

"On me!" he shouted and charged forward. Machine gun fire kicked up dirt around him but missed and zipped around him. he leaped into the trench firing fully automatic with his cut down rifle. There was no one in the trench. Those GDI cowards had all retreated already! No matter. There were still men in that bunker. He gestured toward the man with the flame thrower and pointed at the bunker. The man puffed out his cigar and hefted the deadly liquid hose. He jammed it into the firing port and bathed the inside of the bunker in fire.

The platoon trained rifles on the door, just like they had been trained to do for the past three months, but no one came out screaming or otherwise. The armored companies wheeled overhead, venoms, tanks APCs, and troopers drove, flew and leaped over the trenches. Bennet dived into the doorway of the bunker, somersaulted and landed on his knees as he brought his rifle to bear on-

The charred remains of absolutely nothing. The machine guns stood idle at their posts, blackened charred and still firing, the _clack clack clack_ of the bolts slapping repeatedly against the housing in automatic fire filled Bennet's hearing. He stood and observed the wiring and cables that lead to a circular dish.

"The machine guns were attatched to motion sensors!" one of his men, a former electronics engineer nodded. Bennet stormed over to him and shot him in the head out of frustration. He'd lost valuable men to something that wasn't even manned. The Global Defense Initiative would pay for everyone wasted. He didn't need some lab jockey to tell him he had failed to kill a single man. But he was an officer, and he needed to concentrate on the battle. And a readily retreating enemy and an unmanned frontline did not fit into the picture of honorable and hard won battles.

Something was wrong.

The vehicles flashed past down the alley, the ripping motors of venom and motorbikes echoed down the streets, climaxed as they intersected Fourth platoon's position and echoed far and away. Burns clutched his rifle and waited behind his pillar, using the broken mirror, propped up against a second pillar to see what was behind him without revealing his position. The dust kicked up as the jets of a venom idled overhead, two scorpions, a flamer IFV and maybe two dozen Nod men picked their way through the rubble. He looked around at his men, some positioned behind pillars like himself others trained rifles from shadowed positions. He closed his eyes and memorized the layout. First and second platoon were in the building directly across the street, second on the ground, first on the second story along with third platoon directly above Burns and fourth ready to rain down fire at the passing men.

A missile team scrambled into position behind the cover of rubble, the first tapped the Dragoon GA/GG launcher on his buddies shoulder checking to make sure the weapon was safe and tapped the weapon operators helmet. He gave Burns a thumbs up. Burns nodded in return and looked around at his men one last time. They all nodded grimly. Burns inhaled and looked outside again. Now four Scorpions, one flamer, two APCs and three dozen men fanned out on the street in a sloppy contact formation. He counted three beats of his heart then nodded at the engineer.

"_Do it!" _ he hissed.

The TAC net suddenly came alive with reports. Broadcast in Lord Caroth's forward command post he also had the latest in GDI holographic displays. Blue pristine city with green friendly units and red points of contact littered the display. Everything went to plan at first, the machine gun bunkers and many turrets he knew the GDI had were not present on the frontline but had provided no problem. However, as his forces failed to come into contact with anything substantial the momentum lost charge as did their eagerness. Twenty minutes in without a trace of GDI units or resistance and the charge faltered on itself.

Then the board changed. In an instant red contact stars lit up all across the display and screams rang out on the undisciplined radio. Reports of gunfire, explosions and ambushes spammed all channels, even the command as various colonels and majors attempted to rapidly asses the situation calling out to their troops or shouting at them to _get back in formation!_ The radar pings from overhead venom gunships fed into the holodisplay. Turret spires rose from the ground, unearthing themselves from the underground sheathes, some inside buildings using the concrete structures to conceal and shield themselves from harm, others like Anti armor and Sonic guns burst from the streets giving them direct lines of forward fire on the tanks and infantry units crammed in the narrow confines. Units crossing the GDI trenches suddenly came under accurate fire from turrets and machine gun spires that split the earth upon activation. Parts of the Holodisplay went dark as AA guns went live and destroyed the venom broadcasters. Caroth's front wave was in total chaos.

_No!_ Caroth's mind reeled and slapped the broadcast override on the speaker. His voice penetrated through all the noise.

"Maintain formations! Eliminate all GDI, Cobalt, Silver and Puse groups engage those turrets! Wipe them out!" he barked. Panicked confirmations from the officers as the armored columns and infantry defended themselves from a very organized and determined foe.

This war just became interesting.

Caroth sat down and massaged his temples. He hated interesting.


	5. Chapter 5

1500 hours.

It wasn't often that everything went according to plan. Not in Burns' experience anyway. But for once, Murphy's law worked in the GDI's favor. The sonic turret had unearthed itself in the perfect firing position, a straight angle pointed at the Nod Column and had opened fire before the tank crews could react. The first shot alone had tossed men and tanks high into the air, some crashing against the rubble. Others against the buildings. The half dozen men left had scrambled for cover inside the hollowed buildings – and found two angry platoons of veteran GDI riflemen awaiting with open arms and shackles.

He sent two men to escort them back to LOCCOM where they may or may not prove to be useful intelligence.

The engineers came back from their dirty work, picking their way through the rubble to perform their duties and gave Burns a thumbs up before moving back to their covering position.

"_Bravo one to Bravo company_" the captain in charge of the company said. _"Oscar Zulu has visual on second armor column on direct approach. Estimated at four venoms, twelve bikes, eight scorpions one avatar and assorted infantry. They've got good air and expecting us but we've prepared for this. If it goes south we go to plan B and bug out."_

"Bravo four, solid copy." Burns grimaced inwardly. A single avatar would prove to be a massive problem in standard battles. That is, if this were a standard battle.

"Keeping cool guys?" he said loud enough for everyone to hear, his hushed voice echoing throughout the husk of the commercial building.

"Wish it were hotter." Jamie, the private on the missile, crooked his neck. "first contact and I don't get to fire _mi amigo_ here? Bad form." Fourth platoon laughed.

"You'll get to shoot something soon enough." Burns smiled behind the gas mask. Morale was high. Something to be expected from the 22nd tactical. The drone of venom choppers moving into position was now joined by rhythmic _thunk-thunk_s of the Avatar walker. Burns watched a group of pebbles slowly jump up and down and was vaguely reminded of his High school prom. Oh to be young again.

"_Okay here they come. Keep it cool, first and second lets head downstairs leave your missile teams upstairs. Stand to, third and fourth; hold your fire._"

Burns thought back to the plan. If they sent gunships ahead first, and it was very likely they would because they could take out the sonic turrets, first and second platoons missile squads were in a perfect position to deal with them. But they'd have to be quick if they didn't want to be gunned down by the Avatar. They'd all have to be if the gunner decided he didn't like the buildings very much. But that was why the engineers were out there before.

"_Bravo company, Oscar Zulu reports another wave of tanks and infantry close behind. We engage the first group and go to plan B._"

"Solid copy." Burns said. The roar of venom gunships preparing for a fast pass ringed in Burns ears and dust billowed into the building. First platoon was downstairs and taking up positions. Shrieks of missile fire then explosions and a _crash_ of flaming metal slamming against rock. The ground shook four times. The whine of a laser cannon joined instantly by the sound of shattering glass and concrete exploding. Then a second shriek of a missile launcher and the dull crump of the explosion. Another laser blast.

"_Bastle is down._" Second platoon reported. _"Everyone else is fine._"

"_Wilde here."_ First platoons missile operator reported _"I'm still on the second floor, the walker hasn't noticed me yet."_

"You didn't fire your weapon." Captain Tirone stated bluntly.

"_No sir, it uh, it jammed. But it looks like the two columns joined up and they're going to try to get the walker to snipe the sonic gun out, look out its going to fire!"_

The laser blast expanded the air around Burns and made his hair stand up even behind his ballistic vest and armor and the high decibel retort of the sonic gun going loud ripped through his earplugs as if they weren't there. The volume almost dinned out the twin explosions he heard. The crash of a turret falling over was followed shortly by the avatar's bulk tottering forward and telescoping to the ground. The rumble of armored treads over metal and rock thrummed. Shouts of men off in the distance. Burns took a look into his mirror then cursed, dust had blurred the vision. He risked a peek outside. Lots of men in contact formation, some with rifles, some with flame throwers, shit even a few with rocket launchers. They surrounded the tanks and trained their rifles on their surroundings, completely oblivious to the platoons.

"All units, hold fire until Fourth platoon signals" Tirone said. Tirone put a lot of trust in Burns and his taste for impeccable timing.

The engineer held up his remote in mute permission.

"No. We don't need to go to plan B yet." Burns said. He gestured to his men rapidly and pointed to various positions. Roly on the Squad Automatic Weapon sprinted quietly to the shadowy position that would give him a great firing angle on the backs of the column. He lay prone in the rocks and rubble and patted the light machine gun and gave Burns a thumbs up to give him the go ahead. The other men with SAWs gave Burns thumbs up from their firing positions.

"Now!" Burns shouted and popped out of his cover to sight up on a boy with a flamethrower.

Simultaneously, the armored column came under fire from both sides of the street, four expertly aimed missiles shattered three scorpion tanks and exploded a flamer tank which took another two with it. Light machine guns concentrated fire on the largest groups from their angles and mowed down two dozen alone in the first ten seconds of contact. Burns accounted for gunning down twelve men himself after five minutes. The ambush confused the nod militia the gunfire drowned out the orders their officers gave them. They were in hopeless chaos. Burns had seen Nod troops use the same tactics vs GDI. It was good to hit the enemy with his own tactics.

It felt like justice.

"_Why aren't my men following orders!_" Caroth shouted. _His_ men his own officers disobeyed orders to form up and fight their way back out to the second wave of troops! Didn't they realize he wasn't trying to retreat but to save their lives? Whatever the officers trapped in the inner cordon thought, they thought wrong. Push into an area with second hand intelligence to an enemy that was not only waiting for them, but concealed and dug in at the same time? Was he the only sane man in this entire army?

"I believe they are only following our military mantra lord." His secretary, a uselessly pretty girl, said. She was ambitious and nosy. "Our mantra is never to defend, an offense is always the best defense."

"and that's true girl." Caroth wheeled on her eyes blazing. "its good to know you've learned so much from our temple textbooks! But to practice it girl oh that's something you haven't learned." He backhanded her and sent her crashing to the floor in front of his high officers. He turned to them and gestured to the holodisplay, where his second wave of troops, supported by vertigo stealth bombers had begun to trickle through the GDI automated frontline but sustaining heavy casualties, almost 15% by now.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you! It is true an offense is always the best defense, it forces your enemy to react to you and gives you all the initiative. Defending means you surrender that initiative and let him find a way to defeat you! I do not deny this! But an offensive force not ready to fall back and study the enemies defense are no better than misquitos to a bug zapper! _As_ an attacking force we must go and recover the remnants of the first wave so we do not lose momentum! I am _not-_" he turned toward the secretary who would now have four scars on her left cheek, courtesy of Caroth's sharpened nails _"_calling off this attack! Now get my first wave out of there and get my second wave _in!_"

"Penetration on the western front!" one of the radio officers shouted and pointed at the tactical display. The line had been breached in four places, vertigo pilots were pounding away at the rail guns and anti infantry spires now as the second wave of tanks and infantry swarmed over. 15% was a major setback to his second wave, they wouldn't have the strength to carry even four miles into the city if the way the GDI held onto every inch of it was testamount to their tactics. But it wouldn't make sense for them to die in droves, no their commanders were smarter than that. The GDI infantry would be making use of the cover of the city or would be falling back to a second line of defense, right about where Caroth had set as their goal point for the day. Maybe they would be doing both.

If that were the case, he had to be sure of the latter option to adjust his tactics. "Send A and B Wings over to our goal point, high altitude. Get some pictures for me of their second line." He barked. And stared intently at the tactical display as swarms of militants entered the city and the GDI frontlines began to crumble.

"They're taking the bait." Major Stephens stroked his chin as he watched the front trenches-not the front line- crumble. "You sure you didn't choreograph this sir? Its almost too perfect."

"Absolutely sure." Varen smiled. It _was_ a little too perfect. The element of surprise had been expected of course, and the 22nd tactical, as expected had fared well against the first wave of Nod troops. What he did _not_ expect was an almost complete annihilation of Nod first wave forces. But judging from their tactics, Nod officers boldly, and stupidly kept on going down the same roads of frontal assault and died in droves every single time. Ironic wasn't it? That his officers were now crying for orders because of how _well_ they were doing? It was preposterous military good fortune.

New symbols winked on the holodisplay, high in the sky vertigo bombers climbed over the city. High altitude bombing runs? Stupid. They wouldn't be able to hit anything on Varen's true frontline, not without precision munitions and ground troops to direct them.

"Sierra, Whiskey, Delta, Tango, Raven groups, watch for commando groups close to your position." He ordered. "X-ray Squadron, you're on call, snap heading two five niner and engage all bogeys."

He received solid copies from all his officers. The sixteen bombers leveled out and began a slow cruise toward the frontline. X-ray's four Firehawks streaked into position and loosed missiles at beyond visual range. Zulu squadron, with the other four well concealed firehawks, were probably scrambling now to fill the hole in their air defenses X-ray would leave once they had fired the last of their payloads. Half the enemy vertigoes winked out and the rest scattered, another four winked out on the display as they routed. Nod was taking the bait and that was all Varen could ask for. In his book there was no such thing as "too good".


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Sorry i've been updating so infrequently, I've had a ton of school work and social and family life has taken up their toll on the word factory here. anyway, hope you enjoy this one! and please please please please PLEASE feel free to review my work: I plan on becoming a serious writer!

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The firefight raged as more troops poured into kill zone, Lt. Burns fumbled for his tenth? Eleventh clip? He didn't know. He didn't care just thanked God that he'd grabbed the spares. How many of these bastards were there? Exploded rounds from tanks and bombs formed large impact craters, makeshift foxholes that first squad now resided in to hold the center of the street. The captain was down, taken back to the field hospital by first platoon, the side fragment of an exploding tank had shorn off his right leg, knee down. He had ordered his men to begin steadily falling back and left Fourth platoon to cover their retreat. It was a great honor that his men had not let go to waste. What _had_ been wasted was the five dozen enemy troops they'd felled over the past hour. Burns couldn't have been more proud of his men and felt honored to be sharing foxholes with them as the enemy charged in wave after mindless wave.

But they were learning, the flow of troopers abruptly stopped as if corked but Burns could hear the padding of feet and shouts of officers over the other side of the rubble. They were gathering for another assault, this one would surely overwhelm his position. If they were smart, and no human being no matter how crazy was stupid and fanatical enough would charge machine gun positions if there was another way. So he came to the quick conclusion that they would either call up snipers or some type of artillery, be it heavy round or small mortars and pound the company's position until kingdom come. Neither would be pretty and he wasn't about to wait for it.

"Oscar Zulu, Bravo four, requesting eye of sight report on enemy reinforcements."

A short pause and the crack of a sniper rifle.

"_Bravo four, two dozen tangos and rising maybe one kilometer from your position. They're holding up, maybe waiting for armor."_

"Oscar Zulu be available to send all priority traffic."

"Solid copy Bravo four. Oscar Zulu out."

He looked around at his men, most sported wounds, shots to the arms that weakened them, chest shots that left small entry wounds and horrendous exits that had been roughly patched up by field medics, burns from standing just outside of an explosives kill radius. Burns sported none, miraculously. He had asked enough of them for that day, in that past hour alone they'd done enough to be buried in a mountain of metals, in Burns opinion. They all had his highest commendation. But he needed them to do one more thing if they were to survive and buy the engineers working amongst them time. And he knew they would eagerly follow his next order, there was a fire in their eyes and a quickness in their breath Burns could see through their mirrored visors and gas masks.

"Fix bayonets!" Burns barked and suited his order to action. The twelve inch stainless steel reinforced blade had a black finish and serrated edges along with a heavy weight towards the blade. A stabbing and slashing knife, standard issue bayonet. He waited until each of his squad leaders sounded off the ready.

"By squads, forward line advance-double quick! First squad on me!" Burns scrambled out of his foxhole and started an easy jog toward the enemy up on the ridge of rubble.

He made his way to the first piece of cover, the still burning hull of a Scorpion tank and waited for the rest of first squad to rally behind him, then eyed the next piece of cover and darted for it. His men knew the drill and executed it flawlessly "leapfrogging" to the next piece of cover two men at a time. The rest of the platoon followed up until they were so close that Burns could have thrown a rock and struck the boy guard on the ridge. He was going to be paying for his lack of vigilance very soon. He looked around and received a silent nod from all of his squad leaders.

"Second squad take their right flank, third their left, first down the center, fourth up and over with grenades first then we move. Charge them and hold the ridge, we'll hold the high ground until the engineers finish up. Do _not_ advance past the lip of the hill understood?"

Affirmatives from the squad leaders.

"Sergeant Adams: grenades now!"

Fourth squad let loose fragmentation grenades, sending them soaring high up and over the rest of their heads, they burst a meter above the ground raining deadly metal shrapnel on the unsuspecting enemy. Adams had ordered his men to cook off their grenades, a very dangerous and risky move. He had even more respect from Burns now.

Cries rang out from the hill, he didn't know how many voices but Burns didn't care he just vaulted over the twisted metal hulk of a car that served as his hiding spot and let loose a ferocious roar. He was first at the top of the hill, facing a rising man carrying a scoped hunting rifle and adjusting the bicycle helmet on his head. The man hesitated for a second that cost his life. Burns put two rounds into his chest and immediately turned to slash his rifle sideways to cut the throat of another militant. Then the frenzy of close quarters battle, CQB, was upon them, and in CQB, GDI soldiers were almost always better. He emptied his clip into three more troopers who were reloading their rifles and parried a blow from another bayoneted rifle. The readdress swing brought Burn's rifle stock crashing sideways into the woman's cheek and a kick sent her sprawling to the ground where Burns stabbed her in the solar plexus. It didn't hurt him in anyway to kill her, just a second ago she'd been pointing a bayoneted rifle at him and was either too stupid or inexperienced to just shoot him. He dropped prone and reloaded on his stomach, then rising back to the kneeling position shot a man trying to run away.

The men around him reached the hill and had dropped to a staggered line firing position where they laid waste to the nearly three dozen troopers caught out in the open. It was a slaughter, there was no other word for it, especially when the squads brought their light machine guns to bear, heavy support weapons used to lay down covering fire now caused massive casualties in the confines of the street. There wasn't a single man that had rested on that hill alive. The ones caught at the bottom were luckier and were running away, out of effective range of the GDI rifles.

"That's right assholes!" one of his men, Corporal Dunn shouted his voice thick with adrenaline. "Run! Run back to mamma!"

"Hold your position!" Burns snapped at him, it probably wasn't needed, fourth platoon was well disciplined but he did it to reinforce his authority. They were wolves, he was their pack leader. And though the snarling brood was still hungry, they had to consolidate and hold now. There only objective was to buy time for the engineers and they had done that.

"Casualties?"

"Private Forsum took one to the leg!" the leader of first squad shouted. And that was it, they hadn't even put up a decent scrap. Burns hoped it always was this easy.

There were survivors, the first wave of troops stumbled away from the direction they were supposed to go. Captain Bennet let four running troopers let them know of his displeasure with a shot through each mans forehead. The rest immediately fell in line behind his own troopers bolstering his losses.

"They ambushed us." One of them hissed between his teeth chattering. "they were like phantoms, everywhere, nowhere, all around us, above us a nightmare!"

Bennet slapped some sense into the man and sent him back to the point squad.

"Captain!" the tank commander barked, an attractive woman of _seventeen_, but she was a major? This _girl_ outranked _him_ and gave the orders? Bennet almost shot her too.

"move your men forward and clear up the road, I will not have my tanks shot up by some hyped up GDI burglar alarm!"

So she would waste _his_ men to take that sonic cannon? Infuriating. Maddening. Stupid.

"Move up!" he shouted. He would lead from the front or not at all. They advanced as he trained them, moving from cover to cover, hugging the walls and scanning the buildings for concealed snipers. The glass of what was once a commercial hub of the city reflected the thirty six men under his command, boys, girls, grandmothers and grandfathers. Very few men and women were under his command. He hated the upper echelon even more for placing unskilled combat soldiers under a person used to commanding the experienced ones.

"There." One of the men hissed, seeing the hill where his comrades had fallen. Bennet peered through his telescope: yes there they were still sitting on the hill. There were GDI white helmets glistening in the sun. He brought up his men, sending a few with machine guns to lay down suppressing fire while his troops advanced going from cover to cover. Over sixteen light machine guns rained fire on the GDI line as the howl of Bennets troops charged across the field. The fire was so intense, not a single shot fired at them. So intense, the GDI hadn't moved. Bennet was first up to discover the treachery: they had fallen back, leaving a few of their helmets to serve as-

Bait.

"Fall back!" he barked. "It's a trap!"

It was almost insulting how quickly his troops retreated; in good order all the same but a retreat was a retreat. The armored commander quickly saw sense in Bennets frantic warnings and called in a venom gunship to support their attack. It chopped into position and notified her that the sonic cannon had been destroyed and there was absolutely no movement. Bennet kept his trigger finger in check as the woman screamed at him for "damming the river that was the great crusade." Imbecile! She ordered her tanks forward and the infantry, Captain Bennet's shameful infantry behind as they marched, uncontested through the land that the survivors had died in droves for. There were bodies strewn all over the ground, some crushed by the tank treads of the armored column some sporting flash burns of laser strike, most with bullet and fragmentation wounds. The fighting had been fierce and Bennet swore he saw one pile of undisturbed bodies eight cadavers deep. The dead had died upon the dead. He saw his men looting the bodies, pulling prized rifles, ammunition and helmets that looked good or would add firepower to their arsenal. He did not mind, but grew enraged when one of his men was paging through a mans notebook diary, stained with blood and ruined with a bullet through it. he shot him and watched the paperback book fall. Maybe this brave man had carried it over his heart? He wasn't sure. He leaned down to see where the bullet hole matched up on the enlightened mans chest-

He felt something round and hard on it. He uncovered the metal disk and cradled it in his hands and noticed the wiring connected to an unlit bulb. the bulb blinked and went green-then red. He gave a cry.

* * *

The Corporal Rico hit the activator switch: the mines went live. Even from this range, without binoculars he saw the first tank in the column lift up and away on a column of fire. Screams could be heard over the din of the explosions. It was nearly a kilometer off. Burns shook his head. Traps didn't have to be sprung while you were there. Not in this age. He sipped his coffee, a hot steaming mug of sludge, stale and unsweetened. Almost unbearable.

"Good stuff." He said without sarcasm and listened to the screaming men die.


	7. Chapter 7

The dust cleared, pebbles, fragments of rock fell like raindrops. The sky was gray. Captain Bennet blinked and spat grit from his mouth. He was alive, he wasn't in any pain. He tried to move his arms to lift himself up but they didn't respond. He suddenly became aware that he had none. The anti tank high explosive mine had vaporized them in a violent explosion. If he hadn't flipped the thing around, the thing no doubt would have scattered his insides across the street. Bennet wondered why the pain wasn't there and absentmindedly hoped he hadn't broken his spine. There was still screaming, and he could move his lower legs so he lifted himself upward. He looked to his left and right, both arms had been ripped out of their sockets by the force of the explosion. He could hear screaming, whimpering, gargling; someone, he couldn't identify the sex, was screaming for their mother. He suddenly felt very tired so he lay back down, noticing that the scratching cracked concrete below him felt rather comfortable. He closed his eyes and listened to the man or woman's scream crescendo into the evening air.

* * *

Major Veronica hopped out of her command tank and landed on something that made her stumble. She looked down to catch the offender to find she had stepped on someone's leg, the owner lay five meters away grasping at his stump. He whimpered, begged for it to stop, Veronica stalked over and stared into his blue eyes, they swam tears streaming out of them like a cascade of pain. She shot him twice, once in each eye so that she was not consumed by the same pain. Around her, the cracks of weapon discharges announced her order being carried out. She'd taken catastrophic losses, fifty proud tanks of Pegasus squadron of the 60th Scorpion Armored had been reduced to six in the blink of an eye. She checked her mood ring: red, anger. She shouldn't have had to check the ring though, the way her hand shook and how her right knuckles were right around the pistol's grip should have told her all she needed to know. She climbed back into the tank, snapped a crisp and loud order for the column to stop and to send for air and infantry support. It had arrived an hour later, venom's equipped with laser cannon screaming above her as she received support from over two hundred infantry (they brought sappers along, she wasn't going to fall for the same silly trick again) and two squadrons from her 50th armored broke off from their attacks on the flanks to support her in the center. Rejuvinated, the infantry went in first, she received the occasional reports, a bomb going off inside a building that killed a sapper, a trip wire that caused a broken leg, the odd GDI survivor in an entrenched position that mowed down an entire squad of her, no someone _else's_ men. She quickly ordered that these people be taken alive but the scum had other ideas. They quickly committed suicide either charging her men with bayonets, knives and grenades or-

A scream broke out, an animal cry, she turned and saw a GDI white helmeted trooper leap out from behind a leaning column of concrete and charge the nearest Scorpion tank, a sonic charge strapped to his chest and another to his back. The pistol in his hand shot two of the guard infantry before Veronica could swing her own pistol to bear on the offending man. Her entire clip missed, understandable at this range, but the others had no excuse, miraculously or demonically, the shots ran around their target as if a demon coolly deflected the incoming shots. Finally, two meters away from the target, the man was hit in the leg and he tripped and fell. So close, yet so far. A sergeant called for a sapper but before one could be found, the sonic charges detonated. Veronica had earplugs but immediately crouched into the sound barriers of her tank as every trooper around her covered their bleeding ears.

The damage was negligible yet horrible. The charge had not even ripped through the armor as she had feared, yet had blown the right tracks clean off. That tank was dead in the water. Scoffing she ordered it moved out of the way. The delay went so long into the night, she ordered her tanks to hold their position and for the infantry to take up positions into the buildings. Most did not live to see morning. GDI snipers were busy that night.

* * *

"Order all of them to halt." Lord Caroth repeated at his command team. They quickly relayed his orders. He glared at the tactical display. Only the first day of fighting, and the GDI had cost him more men, machines and ammunition that he had expected to use in a week. At the very least 80% of his units had achieved their objective of the first day but if these losses continued, Caroth had no reason to expect victory would come quickly. Artillery support was rendered completely useless, Caroth, being more reliant on armored assault supported by air and infantry used relatively little artillery and GDI air strikes, despite the honeycombed buzzing swarm of anti air establishment around his lines had annihilated every piece and howitzer in his entire horde. Were the Firehawks running out of fuel? He had no reason to believe so, they had responded to every sortie opportunity, aggressively shielding their forces behind an impenetrable wall his own fighters and bombers could not enter. Still, it was odd that none of the other air assets had come into play yet. Or their artillery for that matter. But it was a city fight, more importantly, their city fight. This would be an infantry battle, not a clash of armor across open fields. Caroth understood that now.

"Bring the Infantry reserves forward, bring the tanks and walkers back. Provide the infantry with as much air support as needed but they are to hold the line for as long as they can." He told the officers of his command cadre. "We need to discuss a new strategy tomorrow."

The flat cracks of sniper rifles off in the distance lulled him to a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Two weeks later

"Message from ZOCOM sir." Colonel Varen's aide handed him a slip. Varen sipped his coffee, black, no sugar and a week old and scanned the paper. God be praised! He drained the last of his coffee grimacing as he did. Units in the local areas had repelled Nod forces and were converging on the 22nds position! The massed Nod force were now facing Zone Commands 12th Rapid Reaction battalion, and they were only two days away! He had done it against all odds!

The fighting for the past two weeks had been savage but his own beleaguered and outnumbered forces ground the Nod Advance to a stalemate on the, the disputed line rested where they had blunted the advance the first day. Something Varen had only prayed would happen, but it had. The enemy now were inclined to little prick attacks to test the GDI's solidified frontline and the sniping and firefights raged from building to building, street to street and frequently room to room. It had cost him a thousand brave men and women. But it had cost the enemy nearly three times as many. Their sacrifices were not any longer in vain as ZOCCOMS rapid reaction force charged across the plain at best speed to help Varen's forces. He didn't lie to himself, they were in desperate need of a rescue. But he had planned for it, despite the chastisement of his war council despite the admonishment of his own officers for wasting explosives but luck and fortune had been with him ever since that bloody first day. And now he was ready.

It was time to attack.

"Can I get a transmission through?" Nod forces had been jamming everything within a fifty kilometer radius, but slowly his own electronic support officers had managed to secure channels of communications.

"Yes sir, Sigma channel. I'll open a line to the 12th."

"CO 22nd to CO 12th how copy?" he said once he checked the channel was secure and that he was connected.

"CO 12th, Solid copy, send traffic. Varen, are you still alive?"

"Just barely." He managed a long laugh, something he hadn't managed in two weeks. He rubbed his chin and noticed he needed a shave. "My teeth and fingernails are bloody, all of my boys' fingernails and teeth in fact."

"Still the figurative speaker I see." An easy laugh on the other side responded.

"Dennings is that you?"

"_Commander _Dennings to you Varen." Another laugh that told Varen his old friend was joking again.

"Good to hear you."

"In a little soft spot I see, tell me what you've got."

"We're holding on just barely." Varen admitted and brought the tactical display online. His cadre circled around listening eagerly and gesturing at objects and units to remind Varen of their position; as though Varen had forgotten. "I've taken about twenty percent casualties these past two weeks, though none of our supplies is running low. This ain't no Stalingrad." He chose to omit the fact that it _was_ much like Stalingrad, the city fight was down to guerilla warfare and Varen had lost track of several of his own units at times. Not to mention it was just as vicious and bloody.

"Sorry to hear. But what are the enemy's position and numbers? We have nothing confirmed on our side."

" Surrounding the city something along the lines of possibly several thousand armored cavalry of various types, and we haven't counted their infantry."

A quite curse on the other line. "air support?"

"Sent them to hell." Varen nodded at the Air wing Commanders in mute thanks.

"I see." He heard the scratch of a pencil in the background no doubt Dennings was sketching the positions out on paper, he had always felt the need to feel combat as though scrunching up the latest map made him able to control the battle with his own hands.

"We can swing around the eastern end of the city and create a five kilometer long line of advance. How soon can you support my own forces and punch a hole?"

"I can start in the morning." Varen said confidently. "We've been expecting you. I've got all my tanks itching to give Nod a bloody nose and ass."

Dennings whistled. "The sooner you can draw attention away from my advance the better. It'll be bloody but we'll get the most of your guys out and send the most of them to hell."

"Dennings," Varen laughed "You should know by now, bloody is what my men do best!"

"Good to hear from you again. Dennings out." The line shut. Varen took a deep breath and smoothed out his hair. He had outlined the contingency plan, the second phase to his defense several times to all of his captains, they were ready for this, mentally rehearsed for the past two weeks.

"Its time, prepare your forces for an assault at 0400. Air groups will support the eastern end but all units will be required to push outward. And tell the engineers to rig our little surprises."

It was time for the Defense Initiative to take the initiative and take the offense.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I know its been MONTHS since i've updated this much vaunted story (if i do say so myself) and I've been very pleased with my reviews. most of you that have stopped reading because i haven't updated i can say at risk of appearing egotistical, you're missing out. have fun reading it and please review!

* * *

The forward elements moved in before sunlight nearly a hundred kilometers in front of the main ZOCCOM advance. They'd slipped past the outer pickets Nod forces had set up around the battlezone. It wasn't difficult they were all dressed in civilian clothing, carrying carts like many of the wastelanders out in the tiberium radiated deserts. They were armed of course, but nothing to alert the picket sentries who weren't that good at their job anyway.

Else they would have noticed the very exclusive jet packs given to GDI SEa Air Land Space commandos.

Two kilometers past the pickets, they ditched their civilian clothing and rummaged through the carts to assemble their better weapons. Commando issued ABR 21s modified with collapsible stocks for close quarters belittled the fifty caliber round they fired along a recoilless experimental magnetic accelerating system. And some of them had 40mm grenade launchers slung under. Other commandos loaded up sniper rifles and donned camoflauge netting. They were tasked to prepare the battlefield for ZOCCOM armored forces.

But the 22nd Tactical was still stuck inside the city, their tanks now made useless because many of the streets were clogged by dead tanks and the buildings choked them inside narrow fire lanes anyway. If it was easy to ambush tanks going in, it would be just as easy to nail them coming out. It didn't look like tank country at all there.

0400 was the time human reaction times were slowest. Unless they were prepared, and Nod forces on the frontline were ill disciplined and lacked sleep. They were exhausted from the month of slugging combat that raged back and forth, room to room. Their morale was low, GDI snipers were excellent and hadn't found a Nod equal at the moment. Colonel Varen wisely set his troops on rotation sleep, giving each platoon of men nine hours of sleep while the rest fought. Coupled with this he kept many of his troops fighting at night, where not only would GDI's night vision visors be a great asset in combat, they would be prepared for possibly the biggest operation in their lives.

It certainly was Varen's biggest.

"_Ghost is go."_ Came the first call from the SEALS team.

"_Boogey man, go."_ Another SEALS team checked in.

"_Banshee, go."_

A total of twenty seven commando teams reported ready. The forward combat controller looked to Varen for confirmation to send the order. GDI troops were ready, gunships and fighters were loaded, their pilots hot in their seats and the tanks were itching for their first fight since day one.

"Do it." Varen nodded.

"_Operation Tag Back is go say again; Tag Back is go. All elements: weapons are free, say again weapons free. cleared to engage on discussed vectors. ROE TAC 1." _The combat controller's voice came in cool and crisp as the wind outside. _"Colonel sends: Godspeed."_

Burns heard it on the priority override that cut through the silent COM. They had been ready for an hour, all of them. And now finally it was time to give it back to the men who'd dared set foot in the city. He made a cutting motion with his hand and the engineer hit the detonator.

* * *

Almost a thousand things exactly alike things happened at the same time. Engineers had, since the beginning of the battle nearly a month ago strung any available explosives they could find around the city. Some were mines hidden to hamper the Nod advance, others were given to individual platoons who disappeared into the city for days a time to wreak havoc and then return once their ammunition had been spent.

But the majority of them had been hidden in the main support structures of the city buildings. Bombs that Nod sappers still had _not_ discovered according to the readouts, not a single one had been moved. Almost as soon as every one of those bombs was detonated, effectively collapsing every building not under GDI control, the SEALS teams hit their own detonators.

Bombs planted on the support structures of the Nod camp (now really a forward base) went up in flames. Fuel lines ruptured, landing platforms collapsed with bombers still attatched, satellite imaging and jamming returned static and repair shops sparked and exploded. Nine thousand nine hundred and eighty four high yield thermite bombs went off in the space of thirty seconds.

The result was not as immediate.

The ensuing earthquake might have been registered on an apocalyptic scale and it certainly did for many of the Nod forces beginning to be roused from their sleep. The buildings collapsed not caring whether they telescoped down on tanks or infantry, sleeping or active, but in ten minutes the earthquakes subsided leaving a cloud of dust visible in the early morning sky from the forward ZOCCOM armored positions nearly a hundred kilometers away.

Then the GDI war machine went to work.

No longer was it a city battle suited for infantry, it was a rapid moving mechanized battle across flattened rubble, where GDI predators far exceeded their Scorpion counterparts. And that was without the new Railgun system implemented in the barrels. The tanks of the 22nd roared from their forward positions and charged into the dust cloud, overhead Firehawk stratofighter-bombers, Orca and Hammerhead gunships screamed overhead heralding the end of the Nod hold on the city. The rest of the 22nd tactical's infantry swarmed behind the tanks, their helmet visors penetrating through the smoke as they sought out any enemy that might have been left by the explosions.

* * *

"Lead, got two dozen Scorpions at three o'clock." Crackled Blackfoot 2 over the TACCOM.

Captain Marks swung the digital periscope around to sight on the far off tanks attempting to form up.

"Blackfoots, wheel thirty degrees right and address. Weapons free boys." His tank squadron hooted in assent and the eight tanks neatly turned head on to the first target. They would be the first ones getting kills this morning, the air support were already far away harassing the Nod camp to keep them from reinforcing the city forces.

"Targets ranged!" the gunner shouted.

"Lead tank with antennae, twelve o'clock!" he ordered the gunner to aim at the commander's tank. Scorpion command tanks were very advanced, three manned with a fast autoloading capacity and good 360 coverage, they also were able to receive satellite uplinks for each squadron commander to gain an idea of the situation and exploit an advantage. Unfortunately, the satellite antennae also made the enemy commander an easy target to spot. "HEAT round!"

"Target acquired!" the gunner spat.

"Fire!" Marks barked.

The gun spat off the High Explosive Anti Tank round at ten times the speed of sound leaving a slight ripple in its wake as the blue tracer seemed just to extend like a lightning bolt at the enemy tank. It hit at the bulbous nose, punching through the armor and reactive coating to explode and cook off the ammunition and sensitive radio equipment inside.

"Good kill!" the gunner shouted over the noise of the auto loading system ejecting the smoking brass case from the barrel.

"Target: tank one thirty! Gimme a Sabot!" the gunner punched the button for the loading arm to load the depleted uranium round. Like it mattered, at the velocities a railgun could shoot a bowling ball could probably pierce the Scorpions front armor.

"target acquired!"

"Fire!"

"Good hit!"

The GDI tankers worked like a well oiled machine, the squadron like an even bigger one. Together Marks' Blackfoots were able to maneuver around the milling Nod tanks. They killed sixteen before they even were in range of the Scorpions weapons.

It almost wasn't a Tank battle. It was a slaughter.

* * *

"What in Hells name is going on!" Lord Caroth roared as he stormed into the command bunker.

"Massive GDI counterattack is underway!" the XO gibbered as his eyes remained glued to the holodisplay- that abruptly went into static.

"Satellite jamming from an enemy AWACS!" the forward air control officer shouted from his computer screen.

"Then God dammit shoot the thing down!"

"It's a hundred kilometers away general! My alert fighters have been shot down and my other crews are having troubles starting their planes up!"

"Multiple teams are _inside _the base perimeter sir!" another man shouted over the din of men scrambling to action and the explosions and gunfire outside.

"Their chewing our men to pieces and the gunships are providing them close air support so our tanks are having troubles starting up!"

"Are the SAMS offline?"

"No but their AWACS is jamming them as well sir and the teams are having trouble reaching the batteries because of the confusion."

"Well tell those teams, in fact-" he spat the XO with a glare. He'd have his head stuck on a pike by tomorrow.

"Tell _Everyone _to get into position! And Tell their officers I don't care how many men they have to shoot for them to be motivated enough to perform their duty!"

"Sir high altitude contacts-designating Raid 1- dropping rapidly, sir their headed for the dead center!"

* * *

Zone trooper drop pods, two of them, fell covered by a satellite railgun barrage from low orbit colorfully called "lone stars". The spaceborne artillery struck where they thought the Avatar hangars were located and they were a four percent right. Four percent of the base's Avatars were caught in the barrage and soon after were immediately ravaged by Zone troopers railguns. They were almost like robots by the way they moved and their heavy armor casings. Their weapons were suited for taking out tanks and walkers but as many Nod militants found out, worked just as well on a human being even with body armor. And those unfortunate enough to face these Zone troopers were nowhere near as unlucky as those facing GDI SEALS teams. At least Zone trooper weapons weren't fully automatic.

The raid worked wonders at cutting off enemy reinforcements to the real front for just long enough for the GDI tanks to cut up Nod forward tank elements and swing toward the flank opposite of where ZOCCOM's forces were approaching. The fierce battle lasted in the GDI's favor for two hours. Then the Tiberium sun rose and the Nod forces began to organize. SEALS teams began taking casualties, their jobs finished and much of their ammunition spent, they jetted away to the extraction points where Ox's waited to load them up along with their heavy Zone trooper comrades.

The final battle would be upon them all soon, and there would be a victory and there would be many deaths.


End file.
